Opportunity
by LoneGothic
Summary: What never was and never will be: five ways Robert and Katya never met again. Somehow, it's a mercy. Spoilers for when Guy appears to Episode 5143. [Robert x Katya in a way.]


Five ways Robert and Katya never met again (and thank God for that)

**Spoilers **for episodes generally past Rob being jailed. Keeps to the Australian current episodes as of February 7. Written at the time when Ned becomes a gambling addict and Katya leaves; story turns a little AU before that and after that (pretend she didn't leave after all).

For... purposes, in drabble three, Cameron is buried in Erinsborough and not Tasmania.

* * *

**. x . **

**one.** _the world was never meant for one as beautiful as you_

Afterwards, he told her about how he killed Toadie two hours ago, almost nonchalantly, like it was a subject as casual as 'how was your day'; and there weren't any ropes or anything, but somehow she couldn't stop _listening_ to how he said it so calmly, and when he leant forward to whisper in her ear _why _he did it, she shuddered (_he wasn't supposed to touch you_) as the possessive arm around her waist drew her closer to him.

She couldn't even imagine how Robert managed to break out of the prison, let alone evade the police for four hours without them _realizing_ – why weren't they here already? – but kill Toadie, all alone at home, and then sneak into here? (Susan and Karl off to the country; Rachel somewhere with Stingray, trying to fix everything again; and Zeke doing the same with the Bree; poor little independent 'I've been alone for years' Katya stuck at home.)

The digital clock at her bedside table flashed a bright red – _4:27 _– and Robert leant forward, kissing her neck, murmuring how he missed her _so badly_, his thumb stroking the slope of her hip. Katya swallowed, thinking of Ned and wherever the hell he was, off trying to clear his gambling problems and debts, and how they, in this exact same bed–

–_is there anything you would **confess** to me, right now?_–

Sometimes she wondered if she had ever loved him, or if she had loved the _idea_ of him in those first weeks, when he went under the facade of his twin brother and completely charmed her off her feet, and did he even love her, or did he want the broken person that she wasn't? (_We're broken people, Katya._)

His teeth grazed against her neck – _he didn't deserve you,_ whispered into her skin – and almost in reflex, she entwined her hand with the one resting on her side to keep up the facade, a mocking parody of lovers; but when she thought about it, this was a man who focused with revenge for years, so when that focus shifted to _her_, wouldn't it still be equally as sharp, equally as obsessed?

(_Not a nice thought._)

She turned around to face him, still playing a lover, still pretending as if anything that had happened in the past didn't happen at all, and smiled, pressed her mouth against his, almost tasting poison as she did so. And then she told him everything, the scraps conveniently left out when he asked what Sean Dempster had to do with her, the things she thought would scare him off (when he was still Cameron and less inclined to be all psychotic and murderous): the drugs; that centerfold she did; the things she stole; everything about Guy, and–

–the thought occurred to her: he didn't know exactly what was packed in her wiry frame, all deceptive muscle and fragile strength–

–she didn't look at him as she leaned forward, burying her face in the junction between his neck and shoulder, and grinned wryly, said a little louder, that he was lucky when he tied her up in that caravan (she had claustrophobia afterwards, all because of that) because she would have throttled him if he didn't.

Oh, she knew how strong he was (_how could she forget?_) and before he could interpret what she had said, she pushed him over and reached for his throat with both hands.

**. x . **

**two.** _and all you wanted was somebody who cares_

One thing he hated most about being in prison: being dragged out whenever 'there was a visitor' for him, because of all the things he hated seeing was Toadie's face in his, gloating like the overconfident son of a bitch he was. And what he would have done to smash his face in for the court hearing a week ago – _she never loved you, she never loved you, she never loved you_–

But leaning against the wall and more occupied with staring out the window than at him isn't the lawyer after all, but Katya and _shit, why was she here now?_

And then she turned away from the window to look at him – still the same, still so beautiful – when the guard called her name and yes, here's Robinson and you have five minutes and then settled into a corner to watch the proceedings (just so he wouldn't try to strangle her in a moment; he wouldn't have done that anyway). She didn't sit down, even after he was forced to; but that was alright, because he wasn't sure he wanted her near him after– after she–

"I'm sorry."

Well, he didn't expect her to apologize, of all things, and for what? For marrying that toad? For turning against him?

His voice wasn't shaking thankfully, but deceptively flat as he clenched his fingers into a fist, imagining smashing Toadie in the face with it, and drawled, "For what?"

She flinched; _good for her_, he thought, a little vicious, mouth twisting in a bitter smirk that faded immediately when she came closer to him, her hand reaching for his, the one still resting on the table and for whatever reason, he didn't pull away when she folded her fingers around his, wanting the familiar comfort he had been deprived from for... _God, how long?_

It was then he realized that she wasn't wearing any rings of any sort (she wasn't a jewelry girl, he knew).

She leaned forward, head bowed down in some sort of odd regret and guilt and even let him tighten his hand over hers, moulding them together, but still seeming so distant, so far away; he wanted to ask _Katya, what's wrong?_ despite the fact that he was supposed to _hate_ her for marrying Toadie–

"What happened at the court hearing," she began, softly and he bent towards her, wanting the excuse to be so close to her again, "was Toadie's idea."

_... what?_

"Just... to make you jealous." And then her words turned colder, sharper and each syllable dug into him – _no, don't, Katya, **why?**_ "So the prosecution could see who you _really_ were."

She wasn't married after all; it had been an act to pull the monster out of him and whatever Toadie had said to him about co-operating and his sentence being shortened was completely screwed over, all because of his outburst–

"I'm sorry."

The glimpse of her, staring back at him a week ago had been worth it.

Katya made to pull away, because his grip on her hand had become harsher than expected, and _no, not so soon_, so he pulled her back, his other hand flying to the back of her neck to push her closer to him, and he kissed her hard, almost desperately, _stay, please, just **stay**. _

And then the guard was there, wrestling with his arms to restrain him – five more sessions with his shrink, for certain – but he wasn't thinking about that, just Katya, how she wrenched away from him, the look of utter shock in her eyes, and _fuck_, he wanted her back, back with him, back in his arms, because he missed her so goddamned badly.

She was gone when the guard finally left his line of sight.

**. x . **

**three. **_fallen angels at my feet, whispered voices at my ear_

The first thing he does after breaking out of that hellhole is go to Cameron's grave. There's still that tingling satisfaction to knowing that his father's favourite, his twin is dead and gone. And he's been there, once, although accompanied by multiple guards that made the occasion less cheerful for him, but the memory is still marked forever in his memory, so Erinborough's only cemetery isn't that hard to find, nor is his brother's grave.

Who would search for him there anyway?

But he doesn't expect to see Katya there.

She doesn't notice him, but he notices her right away – she is bright, like a beacon amid the dull grey scenery filled with gloom and death, and after a year of not seeing her, he finds himself drawn in again, a moth to a flickering flame. He's missed her and some part of him whispers, telling him to rush to her before she gets away _again_ – _nownownow, go!_

And he doesn't, because that would ruin the moment of peace he sees her in, at his brother's grave – the green-eyed monster stirs a little – with her arms filled with gardenias and tulips for, always for, Cam.

**- x - **

She's here and she still doesn't know why, but it's maybe she was in a melancholy mood today. (Rain always had that effect on her, really.)

Actually, it's because she sometimes is reminded about Cameron (_Robert pretending to be Cameron_) whenever she sees a bunch of tulips and thinks about how she helped in leading to death, even although she never really meant to (Robert at her door, actually being Robert and apologizing about 'Cameron' and his bouquet of tulips).

Her skirt is bunched around her knees, one hand preventing it from being soaked by the wet grass, so it's difficult as she slides the flowers in the vase left by the grave with a single hand. Knowing that her flowers will wilt, die in less than a week and Cam will be forgotten again makes her feel worse about it; she wonders if she should have cut the stems at a diagonal so that they would last longer. Or maybe she should have bought silk flowers, artificial and fake but hard to ruin.

_Artificial and fake._ (_Like Robert._)

She stands to leave (the long, untamed grass itches her ankles) and then freezes.

_Rob._

**. x . **

**four. **_shut you eyes tightly, clench your fists 'til they almost bleed_

"Poor dear, really, I mean, relatives that never really loved him – except his mother, of course, he always talks about missing her..."

Two years as medic to the Adelaide Crows football team really didn't serve her that well, because _hell_, how did she get sent back to Erinsborough to help with being a _prison nurse_ of all things. The staff themselves weren't that bad, save certain guards, and the medical staff were almost welcoming in telling her what to watch out for in here.

There was the added bonus, of course, of being back, her siblings and Susan only half an hour away and Erinsborough itself wasn't that bad.

The medical section of the prison still needed a better staffroom though, Katya thought, as she stirred her cold tea and listened in to what the psychiatrists were going on about. (_And longer breaks, but that was a different matter._)

"Who?"

One of them said almost sadly, in a tone that seemed as if she was talking about a poor child, "One that came around two and a half years back, all paranoid and confused. Obsessed too," she added in a whisper, like it was taboo to talk about a patient's mental difficulties, "about killing his father and everyone close to him–"

And then Katya turned her head towards that woman and blurted out, "_Who?_"

"He comes in often, maybe twice a week... Robert's his name, I think. ... why do you ask?"

She was already out of the staffroom before the woman finished her question and almost running back to the medical ward, because _shit,_ how could she have forgotten that he was here–

–she crashed into something– no, someone, and landed hard, her vision spinning, like a kaleidoscope gone wrong.

"Miss Kinski? Are you alright?"

"I– I'm fine, sorry about that–" she gushed, _needing _to get back to the medical ward, and then she looked up to see a guard accompanying a skeleton.

(No, not a skeleton, but thin enough to be.)

_Robert._

She stumbled up, not looking at him, but still noticing how his eyes instantly flickered to her and stayed there, even when his guard shoved him forward; and it didn't matter if there were cuffs around his hands or not, because she still remember those same hands shove her against a tree (_you're lying!_) over two years ago.

**- x - **

Her colleague passed her the palm-sized pager without a word and looked at her like she was about to die; the reason for that was soon clear and right in her hands: _Robinson, Robert (No. 66013) admitted at 1335 hours to Medical Ward 2. Possible broken hands, and cuts across hands and arms. _

"I can't." She couldn't believe she was pleading.

"Katya, nothing against you, but he's _insane._ Every other time he's shown up, it's been chaos. And you... you don't know him, and the first time dealing with him was always easier than the next."

She wanted to say that she _did_ know him and talking to him, let alone _treating_ him, would be murder, but then she was pushed out of the ward and into Hell – or rather, just Medical Ward Two with Robert Robinson in it.

**- x - **

"I heard you punched the wall."

It was a poor attempt at conversation, but complete and utter silence between them would have choked her to death, and if anyone was to speak first, it had to be her. She paused in re-bandaging his scarred arm when his eyes moved from her hands to her face and linger there, before he finally spoke – "Why?"

Katya tightened the bandages. "Just asking."

The atmosphere was tense, almost heavy with apprehension, before Robert said softly that she should know why.

She shrugged, acting as if she didn't know, suddenly glad that he was numb and drugged and unable to move.

And then: "Because I saw you again." She stopped applying medication to his scraped knuckles. A pause, then a whisper, almost too faint to catch, "I missed you."

And when she looked properly enough, he wasn't just skeletal and worryingly thin, there was the shadow of insomnia around his eyes and his cheekbones were more hollow, pale and starved of sunlight and life. Prison torture was uncommon in Australia, but it didn't mean much if it went on here.

There was nothing she could say. He filled in the silence again, "_Katya,_"

"I'm sorry," she said, before she ran out of there – someone else had to fix him up, because hadn't she tried over two years ago and failed?

**. x . **

**five. **_it's like I can't see anything, nothing but you_

Before meeting Katya and being jailed, he had lived (partially) by the phrase 'nothing is impossible' – because that was true; he had plotted out a perfect vengeance that would be everything he wished for and the scapegoat would be his poor comatose brother. Clearing her out of his memory, however, was a perfect contradiction to that phrase.

And then forgetting about her _really_ became impossible, because how could he do it, when she was only one wing away and in the exact prison as him?

Admitted on drug offences he had heard, as well as stealing, but when she was actually _admitted_ he never really knew because there was no gossip, no anything. Two weeks later, there was word that someone three cells away had been beaten (in arm wrestling, of all things) _by a girl._

_More than a girl,_ he thought, as he forcibly interrogated his cellmate for that scrap of information.

He found her though, two weeks later, isolated – _willingly_, as he was told – at the tables closest to the corner, flicking her way through the local newspaper, and because she wouldn't give him an invitation (_finally, he's certain about something_), he gave himself one and sat down across her.

She didn't look up. And then, in flat acknowledgement: "I heard Elle went back to Tasmania."

"Not surprised I didn't know."

It was almost insulting that printed text was more interesting than him; but neither of them were good at initiating conversation, so he started, "Why _are_ you here anyway?" Anything to make her talk to him again.

Her response was to throw the newspaper down and walk off. In a lifetime of hating his father, he always learnt that if there was an opportunity and the chance to use it the best he could, he should really use it. (It worked, didn't it, for Izzy and Charlie, and Sean Dempster, and Dylan–) One step later and he managed to slam her wrist to the table and hold it there, long enough for one word: "Stay."

(No 'please' added afterwards, but did that matter anymore?)

(And it did work, either way.)

**. x . **

(and one mini-drabblet, for episode 5143)

He thinks about her that night, mouth filled with so much poison and acid that he doesn't speak for hours on end, and somehow he suspects the guard stationed outside his cell is damn glad he isn't rambling on about the son of a bitch again. The words are spinning before his eyes, all black and accusing and leering: _she never loved you, she never loved you, SHE. NEVER. LOVED. YOU._

He imagines Toadie the size of his namesake and smashes a hand into a fist, trying to conjure up the image of the lawyer crushed in his hand, and when he unfurls his fingers, he almost expects the remains of a green smear and a wedding ring heavy on his palm (_his now, and other with Katya; that's fitting._)

And then he falls asleep with the memory of Katya only a breath away burnt on his eyelids, and the dream-nightmare that follows leaves him empty and hollow in the morning – (_I might have loved you once, if you were Cam, if you weren't a murderer, if you were just a bit more like Toadie, if you didn't try to kidnap me with the idea of 'happily ever after' stuck in your head, **you monster**–)._

**. x . **

* * *

Not sure why I like Robert x Katya in an utterly angsty and less than romantic way. Except that in the first weeks it seemed kinda oddly cute (and even the Australian commercials were siding with it) in the way where he's in utter denial... and... stuff.

I still think a little bit of me died in utter sadness in the episode where he kidnaps her with the idea of 'happily ever after' stuck in his head. (And if he says 'meant to be' _one more time–_)

Timelining:

Drabble One: post-5143, where Katya doesn't leave, but Ned does because of... gambling problems.  
Drabble Two: post-5143, where Katya isn't gone yet.  
Drabble Three: somewhere in the distant future, a year later, where Katya _still_ doesn't leave and Rob manages to miraculously escape.  
Drabble Four: somewhere in the distant future, two years later, where Katya gets transferred back to Erinsborough Prison and... Rob doesn't... manage to miraculously escape.  
Drabble Five: where 5143 never happened and Katya was jailed for the whole Guy business.

Review if you liked it. Or review if you didn't like it, because I'd like a review anyway, since I wrote this in preference of doing my History assignment. It was mostly a practice of writing styles anyway.

I CAN'T BELIEVE I MISSED OUT THE PART IN EP. 5143 WHERE HE ENTERS THE COURTROOM AND THERE WAS THAT 'LOOK' BETWEEN HIM AND KATYA. And all I have is a measly screencap from a magazine. Can anyone describe it to me?


End file.
